Searching for Perfection
by Golden Snowflake
Summary: When a brilliant soul flickers out, those left in its wake are forced to find meaning in what remains. A series of unconnected oneshots.


In case you haven't inferred as much, I LOVE THIS MOVIE.

I expect these all to be standalone snippets - the pairings will probably all be different too.

We'll see, I suppose. :)

* * *

><p>- 1 -<p>

She doesn't know how she keeps ending up here.

Words spill forth from his mouth like a ceaseless fountain, a good third of them almost definitely in another language. The airy flip of page after page is so drilled into her head that she knows she'll hear it in her sleep, and after a while, the grim realization dawns on her that some of the names are becoming familiar.

With all the information he'd crammed into his brain, she thinks he could be brilliant if he actually applied himself.

"It's just like … maaaan, I don't know. I could _never_ decide on just one favorite. I think people who can are lying to themselves. There's just so many factors that go into what makes a good character."

"Yep." She crosses her legs at the ankle, pinching her gum between her incisors.

"And the dialogue! It's almost like if it's too good, it's not believable, y'know?"

"I guess."

"If it's grittier and kind of random, it's more like real life. I go up to the cash register and the dude's all 'did you find everything today, sir?' and I'd love to say something like 'no, but I found what I needed, and that's good enough,' but normally I'm just like yeah, I guess so, thanks. You can't always be a philosopher, even if you're a master of words like me."

"I wouldn't think so."

He pauses for the briefest moment, an uncharacteristically quizzical look on his face. When she turns her head to stare defensively back, he sniffs a little - the smallest hint of a laugh - and turns his attention back to the art book in his lap. The action irks her for some reason, beckoning heat to her cheeks and a tightness to her chest uncanny to an avid biker.

She doesn't know how she's here enough to know which couch cushion is the squishiest and which mini-fridge has the name brand soda in it.

She's also not entirely pleased to realize that she's learned all the routes to the kitchen that keep Heathcliff from ambushing her with a list of the snacks on-hand.

"Actually, that reminds me-" He hops up from his spot on the couch and trots over to the gigantic cupboard that houses the TV and throws open the bottom drawer. She has time to blow a bubble and pop it against the roof of her mouth before he returns, and as he opens his laptop and types at lightning speed, the way the light hits his hair makes it actually look _clean_. She actually gapes at this revelation, though she has plenty of time to recover before his gaze returns to her face.

"This writer I like - he did the latest Scorpion Mask story arc I was telling you about - is supposed to have something original out sometime this month. Oh, it's gonna be totally _awesome_. He's so good it's insane."

"Uh huh." She uncrosses her ankles, her gaze drifting to the glass coffee table that probably costs about a bazillion dollars. Her mouth has started tasting less like bubblegum and more like stale air freshener, but she didn't miss the way Heathcliff looked at her the last time she'd stuck her Dubble Bubble under a piece of fancy furniture.

"He's a super-awesome dialogue writer. I'm telling you, his words are poetic - music to Fred's ears … in an interview, he said he'd love to write about real heroes. Just imagine it! If we could get him to interview us? I bet _he_ wouldn't hesitate to give me shrink rays or invisibility or the ability to turn into a gigantic … oh."

The sudden drop of the blonde's voice makes her look up. "What?"

"My."

"Oh no."

"_God_."

She has just enough time to grimace in horror before the blonde screeches with delight, bouncing violently on the couch and fixing her with huge eyes. "Omigod omigod ohmigod _it's coming out tomorrow!_"

A disgusted growl escapes her and she squeezes her eyes shut, every muscle in her body going taught when Fred grabs her and shakes her by the shoulders. "Let go," she hears herself uttering beneath the male's banshee-like screech. "Let go, let go, let…"

When she realizes that he's gone quiet, the sneer disappears from her face.

Her palms are spread flat on his chest to push him away and his heartbeat is leaping against them.

Fred's gaping mouth slowly closes. He clears his throat, lets go of her shoulders.

"I, uh … sorry. I just didn't know his book comes out - so soon."

Gogo nods once, and it takes a disjointed moment to realize that she's still touching him. She pulls her hands away, fisting them in her lap.

She doesn't know if she just started blushing or has been for a while now.

And she's certainly not happy about it.


End file.
